For the Love of the Game
by xian shadmoore
Summary: A romance blossoms on the Quidditch pitch. Slash warning! Oliver/Cedric
1. Chapter 1: Quidditch and Camaraderie

[ Foreword: The following fan fiction contains slash, or a male/male relationship. If you're not comfortable with this sort of situation, please move on without comment. On a further note, anything surrounded by asterisks was written by J.K. Rowling herself._ Not_ mine, so I'm _not_ taking credit for it. ]  
  
  
  
*"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs. "Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast."  
  
Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Riddle's diary was right in front of his eyes. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn't like the idea. He'd have to tell a teacher about the diary, and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He didn't want to be the one who brought it all up again.  
  
As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go to collect his Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry's growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again **_---_**  
  
"_Kill this time . . . let me rip . . . tear . . ._"  
  
He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm.  
  
"The voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again**_ ---_** didn't you?"  
  
Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.  
  
"Harry **_---_** I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"  
  
And she sprinted away up the stairs.  
  
"_What _does she understand?" said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.  
  
"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.  
  
"But why's she got to go to the library?"  
  
"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."  
  
Harry stood, iressolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"You'd better get moving," said Ron. "It's nearly eleven **_---_** the match **_---_**"  
  
Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker room, his only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.  
  
The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.  
  
Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.  
  
Harry's heart dropped like a stone.  
  
"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall, without getting off his broomstick.  
  
"But, Professor!" He shouted. "We've got to play **---** the cup **_---_** Gryffindor **---**"  
  
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"  
  
Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.  
  
"Potter, I think you'd better come with me. . . ."  
  
Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't object.  
  
"Yes, perhaps you better come, too, Weasley. . . ."*  
  
  
The captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team grudgingly stomped off the pitch, following his fellow teammates towards the front doors of Hogwarts. Oliver held his broom tightly by his side, and the pressure upon the handle was so great that he could have nearly snapped it in two.  
  
"How could she do this? How could she _possibly_ do this?" He said aloud, shaking his head skeptically. "Doesn't she understand? This was for the House Cup!" Sulking, he pulled in line behind Katie Bell as they approached the steps. Dark gray clouds had now gathered in the once-blue sky above. Light raindrops fell at first before the looming clouds opened to release a downpour. Oliver felt a hand place itself on his right shoulder consolingly. Looking behind him in curiosity, he was surprised to see the Hufflepuff House captain.  
  
"She doesn't understand," he said. "None of them really do. It's all just a sport to them." Cedric Diggory removed his hand from Oliver's shoulder. He was a strikingly handsome young man, and it was apparent why most girls swooned over him. He had a charming smile and the most brilliant, blue eyes Wood had ever seen.  
  
"It's a shame," Cedric continued, "Would have been a good match, wouldn't it?" His free hand, as the other was occupied with holding his broomstick, rose to wipe away the strands of sopping-wet chestnut that had been matted to his forehead from the rain.  
  
Oliver nodded, half smirking, half smiling. "Yeah, I suppose so." Pausing a moment to free his right hand, he extended it towards the other captain. "Oliver Wood," he said, introducing himself.  
  
"I know," Cedric replied with a smile, "And I'm Cedric Diggory." Taking Oliver's hand into his own, the Hufflepuff captain gave it a light squeeze, but a firm shake.  
  
"You know?" Wood said questioningly. To himself he wasn't popular, but that was for the rest of Hogwarts to decide. He had only played Quidditch for the love of the game. The title of captain was something that came as an added bonus his fourth year.  
  
"Of course I do. I don't think there's really anyone in school who doesn't," Cedric retorted. "Really, now, you couldn't have possibly thought I didn't. No one's as good at Quidditch as you." Looking up from the ground, he gave a charming smile.  
  
"W-Watch --- Your step . . ." but Oliver was too late. As Cedric had taken his eyes away from the ground, he stepped into a shallow hole. Losing his footing, the Hufflepuff Seeker went tumbling to the ground. Falling into a puddle of mud, the aftereffect had also gotten Wood. Both their faces were covered in droplets of mud, Cedric's more so than Oliver's.  
  
Cedric pushed himself back to his feet, reaching down for his broom. Once he was able to look the Gryffindor Keeper in the eye, he began to chuckle.  
  
"What?" Oliver asked, noticing he was being laughed lightly at. "What is it?"  
  
"Your face," Cedric chortled. "You've gotten mud all over it." However, he, himself, neglected to remember that his own face was much worse. Instead of speckles, he had blotches of brown here and there. His canary yellow robes, on the other hand, were much worse off. They were no longer that bright canary yellow. In fact, they were an ugly shade of yellowish-brown from the wet mud.  
  
"Mine? Look at your own," Oliver quipped with a grin. "Your robes are filthy," he commented as they finally managed to enter the castle. The stone floor was covered in tracks of mud from the many students, which caused Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, to growl dismally nearby.  
  
"Come with me," said the Keeper, gesturing Cedric to follow him. "I'll get you something to change into." Diggory simply shrugged and pursued. Granted, he did have some spare robes in the Hufflepuff dormitory, but decided to stay with Oliver anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if anything extremely dangerous was going on. He could leave Gryffindor Tower anytime he wanted to head back to his own common room.  
  
As they ascended the shifting staircase behind the crowd of students, the calls of prefects were heard. "To the common rooms! Come on, now! Hurry!" However many warnings were given, the two Quidditch players paid no heed. Instead, they were occupied with getting to the Gryffindor boys dormitory.  
  
"Password?" Asked the portrait of the Fat Lady. Oliver muttered something to her and she swung open to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Leading Cedric in, they headed straight past the other Gryffindors that buzzed with suspicion, chattering about the cancelled game.  
  
"Here you are," Oliver said, offering Cedric a pile of neatly folded clothing. They were the traditional Hogwarts garbs: charcoal gray pants, a white button-down shirt, and a black sweater which was embroidered with the Hogwarts coat of arms on the left side of the chest. "Want a tie?" He asked with a grin.  
  
"No, that's quite all right," Cedric replied with a smile. "Hufflepruff pride, you know. Wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing a Gryffindor's tie. No offense." He set the pile of clothes down upon Percy Weasley's four-poster, now tugging off the Quidditch robes that clung to his lithe body.  
  
Oliver did the same, changing out of his wet uniform as well. "So what do you reckon all this is about? You know, McGonagall cancelling the match and all." A slight bitterness still lingered in his tone.  
  
"I haven't any idea," the Seeker replied, now buttoning up the white shirt. It was slightly too big, but nothing ridiculous. There was a years difference in age between the two boys, and Oliver was a few inches taller.  
  
"May I have your attention," Professor McGonagall's voice traveled through the tower. Oliver and Cedric, once dressed, headed down to the common room. McGonagall's expression was nothing short of worried, and her tone was tinged with uneasiness.  
  
*"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."  
  
The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."*


	2. Chapter 2: Remember Me

By quarter to six that night, Cedric had left Gryffindor Tower. He and Oliver had spent nearly five hours discussing Quidditch and the future of Hogwarts. If the school was to close, then there wouldn't be any more House teams.  
  
"Hello, there, Cedric," said the Fat Friar, who was now floating down the corridor towards the Hufflepuff Seeker.  
  
"Good evening," Diggory replied, smiling. Jovially he swept past his House ghost, heading down a flight of steps to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. "_Lumen Nocturne_," he whispered.  
  
Once he had stepped through the tunnel and into the room, which was lit by candles and a fire that was burning warmly in the fire place, he was confronted by none other than Professor Sprout. "Cedric! Where've you been! I was worried green about you!" The stout Herbology professor bustled hurriedly over to him.  
  
"I --- Professor McGonagall wanted to speak with me," he stammered, forcing his brain to think quickly.  
  
"What on earth about?"  
  
"Quidditch," he replied. "What else? She told Oliver Wood and I that the game for the House Cup would be postponed. You know, not as to lose sleep over it and all."  
  
"And she held you there all this time?"  
  
"Yes," Cedric managed, boiling up another lie. "She wanted me to stay in Gryffindor Tower until she could return to bring me safely back here." Without having to speak another word, he went hurrying up to the dormitories.  
  
Professor Sprout stood by the fire, dumbstruck. If Minerva did ask Cedric to stay in with the Gryffindors while she took care of administrative business, why didn't she inform her? She was there as well. It also brought suspicion to the Hufflepuff head professor as to why her House Seeker wasn't wearing his canary yellow Quidditch robes. However, she never did get the answers to her questions. The rest of the year finished with everyone in high spirits that Hogwarts would remain open and that the Chamber of Secrets was sealed forever, all thanks to one Harry Potter.  
  
The last day of school fell too soon upon everyone, and the Great Hall bustled with excitement and sorrow that beautiful morning. During breakfast, the four House tables were filled with chatter as most of the students took the time, which was the result of all end-of-year exams being cancelled, to get their friends addresses and other such information for the school break.  
  
Cedric, however, sat quietly at the Hufflepuff table, repeatedly burying his spoon into his bowl of now-cold porridge. He rested his head in the palm of his hand, supported by his elbow which had been propped on the table's top.  
  
"Everything all right, Diggory?" Delilah Higgins, a fellow Fifth-Year Badger, asked as she sat beside him. "You look as though you've been petrified," she sniggered. Lucky for her, had anyone else heard, she might have been reprimanded.  
  
"Er ---," Cedric said looking to Delilah. Removing his elbow from the table, he left it to rest by his side. "Quite all right, thanks." That charming smile was flashed in Higgins' direction. "Just thinking about something is all. Nothing you ought to be worried about," he reassured her.  
  
"Right, then. Whatever it is, don't beat yourself over it. It's the last day before school break. Look excited, won't you?" With that said, Delilah rose from her seat at the House table and departed to speak with Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw friend of hers.  
  
Cedric didn't really have anything to boast about. His plans for the summer would be the same as they always had: his father would take him and his mother on some nice vacation to a cabin that overlooked a lake. It would also be the furthest point from civilization and the only thing he had for entertainment was the monthly Quidditch magazine, _Snitches Illustrated_. Yet, it had now been two weeks and he hadn't seen or heard from Oliver. "Figures," he muttered to himself. "I knew it was too good to be true." Cedric gave a sigh and pushed the bowl of porridge forward and away from him where it suddenly vanished.  
  
The rest of the day crept on slowly, and as it neared three o'clock in the afternoon, Wood wasn't to be seen. The Hufflepuff Seeker had by then resorted to walking himself up the changing staircase towards Gryffindor Tower. There he ran into Percy Weasley, prefect of that particular wing of the castle.  
  
"Diggory?" Percy questioned, curious as to why he would find him there.  
  
"Yes?" Cedric turned on heel to find the red head approaching him. Then an idea struck him. "Percy, would you happen to know where I can find Wood? You two are good friends, aren't you?"  
  
The prefect eyed him questioningly, but only for a moment. After that he thought nothing else of the matter. "Sure," he replied. "'Just saw him heading down toward the Quidditch pitch."  
  
"Thanks," Cedric called to Percy as he then ran down the flight of stairs toward the main entrance. Swerving in and out of crowds of students, he finally made it to the large, oak doors. Pushing one of them open, the Seeker slipped out into the warm, summer air.  
  
It was beautiful outside. The sky was a bright blue, free of any clouds at all. The sun beamed down warmly, and glistened electrically off the black water surface of the lake. However, to Cedric's surprise, he found Oliver sitting in the shade of a tree by the bank. "Oliver!" He called aloud, trying to get the Keeper's attention.  
  
Oliver turned his head in the direction of his name, and saw Cedric heading speedily towards him. "Hello, there," he said, once the Seeker had reached him. "Have a seat." Wood patted the grass beside him.  
  
"I've been looking for you all day. Would you believe it?" Cedric said once he got himself comfortable, sitting Indian style beside the Gryffindor.  
  
"You were? How come?" Oliver asked, looking away a moment to see bubbles creating ripples in the black, glass-like surface of the lake. There were endless amounts of creatures living in that water, and thus the Keeper rendered it silly to try and ponder what caused the disruption.  
  
"Well, I haven't seen you for a while, is all," Cedric replied, briefly turning his attention toward the lake as well. Yet, when he looked back to Oliver, their eyes met as they had never before. There was a long pause as the two just stared into each other's minds. Finally, the moment was broken as Cedric glanced downward.  
  
_What are you doing?_ He thought, scolding himself. _Won't you stop making absurd insinuations you crazy git? Oliver is nothing more than a friend. That's all this is, a friendship. Nothing more. Now get off it!_  
  
"Something wrong, Diggory?" Oliver asked, noticing the half concerned, half annoyed look on Cedric's face.  
"Oh," the Seeker's thoughts cleared to focus on what was just asked of him. "No, nothing. I was just wondering, would you at all mind if I asked for your address? I reckoned that we might be able to keep in touch over the summer.. or something of that sort . . ." Cedric rolled his eyes over what he had just allowed his tongue to utter, thinking of how ridiculously stupid it may have sounded. At that point, he wouldn't have been surprised had Wood decided to decline.  
  
"Not at all," Oliver said. "Under one condition, that is. That I get yours, too." A grin formed itself upon the Keeper's lips.  
  
"O-Oh, of course!" Cedric fumbled, shocked Wood had accepted, let alone that he wanted his in return. Then he remembered something, and his hopes began to dim somewhat. "I-I just remembered that I don't have any parchment or a quill on hand. You wouldn't mind giving it to me during the feast, would you?" That was, if he could find Oliver again before tomorrow.  
  
"Here," the Keeper retorted, "Use this." Oliver slid a hand into his pants pocket and retrieved a glass ball that was roughly the size of a large marble. It was filled with a swirling, white smoke. Handing the Remembrall to Cedric, he told him his address.  
  
Taking the small, glass object, Cedric gave a smile. "Are you sure I can have this?"  
  
"Absolutely," Wood replied. "I've got tons at home." With his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with a goofy smirk. He felt mildly embarrassed, trying not to sound clumsy. "Thing is, you'll have to send me an owl with your address."  
  
"Sure thing," the Seeker replied. "I'll be sure to . . . To keep in touch, that is!" The smile on Diggory's face brightened.  
  
A few minutes later the school bell rang loudly across the grounds, signifying that the End-of-the-Year feast was about to begin. As the two of them stood, they walked back to the castle together. Students had begun to enter the Great Hall, however, most of them were all dressed in their pajamas. Oliver and Cedric soon parted ways, each heading to his respective House table as the feast began. It would last all night, and the students wouldn't bother to return to their dormitories.  
  
They had all found it easier to sleep that night with the delivery of good news. Professor Dumbledore had informed them all that the attack victims were no longer petrified (thanks to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout), that Hagrid was back from Azkaban Fortress, and that Gryffindor would again receive the House Cup. Naturally, the latter came of no surprise to anyone.  
  
Once the Headmaster was finished, Professor McGonagall took a moment to stand, personally wanting to share a bit or more good news. "I wish to inform you all that, under unknown circumstances, Gilderoy Lockhart has chosen to resign as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts." The cheers of students, as well as an applause that came from the staff table, filled the Great Hall. With that said, the Deputy Headmistress seated herself, wearing a rarely seen smile.  
  
The night grew old, and as the House tables where magically whisked against the walls of the Hall, the students gradually fell asleep. Morning was announced as golden rays of sunlight poured in through the surrounding windows. It would be another flawless day.  
  
By eleven o'clock that day the train landing had been filled with students, all of which wheeling their trunks and other possessions along behind them. The scarlet Hogwarts Express remained stationary on it's tracks, billowing thick plumes of gray smoke.  
  
"All right," Hagrid bellowed. "S'time to get yeh on the train. It'll be leavin' soon. Come on!" As the last of the trunks were packed, the students began to board. Just as Oliver was about to step foot onto the train, he heard his name being shouted over the noise of his classmates.  
  
"Oliver!" Cedric cried, weaving through a group of Ravenclaws to get to him. Hustling up to him, the Seeker stopped dead in front of Oliver. "I just wanted to.. Er.. say 'have a nice summer'."  
  
"Right," Wood replied with a smile. "You, too. But . . . aren't you going to King's Cross?" There was a light expression of confusion on the Keeper's face. Most of those that attended Hogwarts usually to the train back to Platform 9¾.  
  
"Oh . . . No. My mum and dad are here to get me. With my father working for the Ministry, it's only convenient and all. But . . . um, here! I wanted to give you this." Reaching into his robes, Cedric handed to Oliver a light brown envelope. "Well," he continued. "You best be going. Don't want them to leave without you."  
  
"Right," Oliver replied, examining the envelope briefly before tucking it into the pocket of his own robes. "Well, hope to talk to you over the summer, Diggory." With a pat on the shoulder as means of temporary good-bye, the Gryffindor Keeper turned on heel to ascend the stairs onto the train. With one last smile, he disappeared to return the following year as a Seventh Year student.  
  
As the ruby train pulled slowly away from Hogwarts, Cedric looked on. A part of him was bubbling with excitement, and another was filled with absolute dread. Once the Express was nothing more than a mere, black speck amongst the green country side, the Seeker headed in the direction of his mother's voice.  
  
"Come on, Cedric," she called. "You're father's waiting."  
  
Meanwhile, on the train, Oliver was sitting with Percy Weasley in a booth toward the back. Remembering the brown envelope that was given to him, he withdrew it from his pocket. Flipping it over, he saw his name, 'Oliver Wood,' written neatly in a deep blue ink. He then proceeded to open it with the utmost care, not at all wishing to inflict any harm upon the mint-condition parchment. Gently sliding out the contents, chocolate eyes read over the following message that was also written in blue:  
  


_Cedric Diggory  
36 Gibsdale Lane  
Bloomsbury  
_

  
"What's that you have there?" Percy asked, looking up from a book he had his nose shoved into.  
  
"Nothing," Oliver replied with a big smile upon his face. "Nothing at all."


	3. Chapter 3: Dreaming of You

It had been two weeks since Cedric's fifth year at Hogwarts had ended and the summer break had begun. Already was he finding little to do, and when he did attend work with his father, he was told to just sit and observe. Mostly whenever anyone did come into Amos' office, it was some nutter that having difficulty with an exotic house pet.  
  
"It bit my bottom!" An elderly witch complained, pointing to the travel case that was down by her side. She was dressed in a periwinkle robe that she fastened around her waist with a poison green belt. The crooked hat atop her white, fly-away hair was a putrid shade of yellow, which Cedric took offense to. Her stockings, which were striped the many colors of a sour rainbow, finally buried themselves deep in the depths of dark brown books.  
  
"Madam," Amos said, giving the woman a bizarre stare that rivaled her own eccentricity. "Please, please. Calm yourself and have a seat." Mr. Diggory gestured to the chairs that were placed before his desk.  
  
The witch, after shutting off her hysterics, brought herself to one of the chairs and sat down silently. The wooden frame of seat creaked beneath her weight. Cedric winced.  
  
"Now, what did you say bit you again?" Amos reached into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a piece of parchment that looked something like a referral slip. Dipping his peacock-feather quill into a bit of ink, he prepared himself to write.  
  
"Mr. Pimms," she stated casually, eyeing the carrying cause which, under her glare, shook wildly. Cedric stirred uneasily, unsure of what was in there. He then suddenly jumped as one of the witch's boots forcefully kicked the case and sent it flying into the wall to her right. A loud yelp was heard.  
  
Amos scratched out 'Mr. Pim--' from the box on the referral that was labeled 'Creature.' Clearing his throat, and feeling a great bit of pity for whatever was in that case, he broke the moment of silence. "What _type_ of creature is it, madam?"  
  
"Oh," she replied, acknowledging Cedric for the first time. She gave a yellow smile. "A Crup."  
  
"Was there anything that might have made him do it?"  
  
"Do what?" The witch turned her attention back towards Mr. Diggory. With one of her fat hands, she scratched a tuft of white curly hair from behind her ear.  
  
"Bite you," Amos murmured with a slight twinge of annoyance. Cedric suddenly had a feeling that their vacation this year was going to be even longer than the one previous.  
  
"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "He wouldn't wear the new bow I bought for him. And might I add that this wasn't the first time he did anything like this. Oh, no. Certainly not," the woman leaned forward a bit, the tip of her crooked had sagging downward pathetically. "He's bitten me before. This is his third time now, in fact. Ruddy thing. I warned him, I did! Told him the last time that if he ever did anything like this again I'd have him locked away. And so here I am. Locking him away." The Crup whined from inside the carrying case.  
  
"How serious of a bite was it?" The blue quill began to move frantically across the referral slip as Amos began to write down bits and pieces of what the bizarre witch told him.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," she continued, "didn't even feel it."  
  
The tip of Amos' quill snapped off as he was pressing too hard. Soon enough the Head of the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures found himself with a new quill in hand, writing up the witch instead. "I'm afraid that's too insufficient a reason to have your Crup ---"  
  
"Mr. Pimms," she corrected.  
  
"**Mr. Pimms**," Mr. Diggory stated, clenching his teeth with agitation, "filed for execution."  
  
"Execution?! Oh, gracious me! I never wanted to have him eaten by crickets!" Both Cedric and his father just stared at the woman. She really was a strange one. "Oh, Pimmsie-poo! Come to mummykins!" Clapping her large hands together, the door of the traveling crate burst open. A little black dog that strongly resembled a Jack Russell terrier came prancing out. As it trotted over to the witch, Cedric noticed that it had a forked tail. "Do you forgive me?" She nuzzled her nose against the Crup's. The dog licked her swollen face in reply. Then, suddenly, what the Seeker had feared most came true. Under the pressing girth of the woman and her small, ebony dog, the wooden chair gave way. In a split second that become a fury of splinters and earth-splitting thunder, Mr. Diggory's chair became a pile of kindling.  
  
With a look of pure horror on his face, Amos stood to his full height. "Get out you wretched, old bat! Get out!" Utterly appalled, the crash-course witch got to her feet, threw her nose snottily into the air, and squeezed her massive backside through the door. A hand rose to Mr. Diggory's forehead.  
  
"You all right, Dad?" Cedric asked his father, only to get a nod in reply.  
  
"Come on, Cedric. Get your things. We're going home."  
  
After a long, dinner discussion with his parents, Cedric decided to turn in early. Excusing himself from the table, he headed up the stairs to his room on the second landing. "Lumos," he called softly, illuminating his bedroom. It was a soft green in color, and a very mellow place to be. There were a few posters here and there, some of his favorite Quidditch team, the Appleby Arrows. As he walked past the poster of Zacharias Mumps, Seeker for the Arrows, it smiled and waved to him.  
  
Falling carelessly onto his bed, Cedric stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. After lying there for a moment, his mind immediately wandered to the prospect of Oliver. Before he knew what was happening, his consciousness faded out and he found himself straying into a dream.  
  
_Rain fell openly from the sky, pounding mercilessly against the cement streets of London. The fog in the air was thick, but not as it typically was. A sweet aroma filled the air, and it was somewhat calming. Cedric sat quietly on the steps of an apartment, allowing himself to get soaked to the bone. It was still summer, and the rain came as a refreshing shower more than another bothersome obstacle. His hands, covered to the knuckles by the sleeves of a drenched blue button-down, were raised to his mouth as his rested his check against them. Strands of chestnut brown hair fell loosely before his brown eyes. He was waiting; waiting for someone or something. . .  
  
A dark silhouette shaped itself in the thick, gray clouds of the fog. As the person stepped nearer, the blackness of the figure deepened until became entirely solid. It was none other than Oliver Wood, but something was different about him Cedric noted. He wasn't dressed in his usual clothes, but wearing a charcoal gray suit and khaki trench coat. The tie he wore was black, matching the hat he had loosely tipped on his head. In his right hand and slung over his right shoulder, Oliver held a vivid, red umbrella.  
  
Standing the moment he spotted the Gryffindor Keeper, Cedric ran to Oliver and threw his arms around him in a gentle embrace. Wrapping an arm around the Seeker, Wood held him tightly against his chest.  
  
"I've been waiting for this moment," Cedric said, looking up at Oliver's half shaded face.  
  
"Me, too." With his hand, Oliver gently lifted Diggory's chin slightly higher, and beneath the shelter of the red umbrella, they shared a kiss. Wood's lips were soft, Cedric imagined, and had would taste like the bittersweet flavor of white wine. They lingered there a moment, forgetting everything; too enveloped in sheer presence of one another._  
  
Cedric breathed heavily, trying to inhale the sweet scent of Oliver, but in actuality, the Gryffindor wasn't there. He awoke to a crude reality, opening his eyes to discover himself back in the confines of his bedroom. Sighing depressingly, Cedric sat up. Tugging off his shoes, he cast them idly to the ground. There was no desire to get undressed, and so, once he removed his socks, the Hufflepuff Seeker went back to the sanctity of his sheets.  
  
"_Abeo incendia_," he muttered, and the many candles that littered his room extinguished on immediate command. In silence and in darkness he lay, often closing his eyes to remember a glint of his dream. How it all seemed so real, yet so surrealistic. Cedric soon discovered that he was developing a crush for that handsome, brown-haired boy, and he felt that he would give anything to just be with him for a single minute.  
  
As Cedric's consciousness slowly slipped from his grasp, there was an alarming noise at his window. With his eyes snapping wide, he bolted upright, sitting attentively in the darkness. Straining his blue eyes to cut through the blackness of his room, Cedric finally mustered the courage to open his window. As he did so, a grayish-brown barn owl came swooping in with a letter in its mouth. Gliding across the room, the owl landed and perched itself upon a chair by the door.  
  
Cedric slid out from beneath his bed sheets, walking calmly over to the owl. Allowing the letter to be taken from his beak, the bird hooted softly.  
  
"Sorry. I don't have any food." With that said, the owl ruffled its feathers and took off the same way he entered. The Seeker watched it depart, but then quickly returned his attention to the letter in his hand.  
  
It was a crème colored parchment, bound by a red ribbon and lightly browned at the edges. Carefully sliding off the ribbon, Cedric uncurled the scroll. Written in a black, scratchy letters was the following message:  
  
_Dear Cedric,  
  
Hope your school break is going all right. Mine has been boring. Using the old broomstick to keep busy. Well, hope to hear from you soon. Keep flying!  
  
Oliver_


End file.
